


Future Uncertain

by ElyssaCousland



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 12:11:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElyssaCousland/pseuds/ElyssaCousland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've always hated the ending when you marry a female Cousland to King Alistair - both die young, childless, and now there's another civil war?  This is my take on how that could be different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Future Uncertain

Elyssa was being carried.  Of that much, she was sure.  Where she was and what she was doing there were mysteries to her, her own name little more than a vague whisper in the back of her muddled mind.  She tried to focus on the sensations first.  She was head down, she lay flopped over someone's shoulder, and that person was moving, fast.  Her head joggled as whoever carried her made a short leap, and her eyes finally snapped open.

 There was dim light, and as she tried to glance around, the sounds started to filter in to her overloaded brain.  She heard the clash of steel against steel, the screams of injured and dying men, and the inhuman screeching of darkspawn.  Was she being carried away to be eaten later by the darkspawn?  But no, she realized she recognized the back of the person carrying her – Zevran.

 “Maker's light...the battle!  What happened?”  If Zevran heard her, he didn't respond.  He must have felt her struggling, but his steps did not falter.  He dodged around the battlefield, carrying her as though she weighed nothing.  She fruitlessly tried to hold up her head to look around, but groaned in pain and collapsed back onto Zevran's shoulder.  The pain helped to clear her head, and suddenly she remembered.  “The archdemon!  Zevran, wait.  Is it dead?  I must be sure.”

 He finally ducked behind the ruins of a building and carefully set her down.  She realized they were not alone, and was able to raise her head long enough to see Sten crouch down, unburdening himself of Alistair's unmoving body, Wynne hovering anxiously beside him.

 “Be careful, Elyssa.  We didn't have time to fully heal you; I'm not sure what injuries you might have sustained.”  The Antivan quickly checked her eyes, then her pulse, and relaxed as he found her alert.

 “Alistair!  Andraste save us, is he...?”

 “No, child,” replied Wynne, motherly as always.  “He yet lives.  However, we cannot seem to wake him.”

 “Wynne?”

 “Working on it, child.  Hush and let me do my job.”

 “Zevran – the last thing I remember is...driving my blade through the skull of the archdemon.  I felt agonizing pain, and then...nothing.  What happened?”

 “The archdemon is dead.  The death screams could have been heard in Antiva, I'm sure.”  He paused.

 “When it died, a great shape rose from it, almost like a spirit.  I could swear it was...sentient.”  Oghren, quiet for the first time since Elyssa had met him, nodded silently and paled at the memory, taking a swig out of the canteen he kept always tucked into his belt.  “It seemed...I could tell that it was...satisfied to have been released.  It did not seem evil.  It looked at you and Alistair, and you both screamed, and a great blackness flowed out of your mouths to dissipate into the air.  You both collapsed.  The spirit then seemed to float up, across the battlements, and flow into Morrigan, of all things.  She too screamed – and then disappeared.  We have searched for her, but can find no trace of her, or her corpse.  The tower...well, it didn't seem stable, so we grabbed you and his heavy majesty over there, and ran for it.  We were the last out, I believe, and we made it just in time, too.”

 Elyssa turned her head to see the tower above Fort Drakon gone from the skyline of Denerim.

 “The horde has broken, their organization gone.  They flee, or else wander through the city in small bands, feeding.  The army is making short work of both, and I suspect Denerim will be purged of darkspawn by mid-day.”  Checking the sky, and the dim light, Elyssa realized it must be shortly after dawn.  “It will take months to purge the darkspawn from the surface altogether, but the blight is over, Grey Warden.  You have saved Ferelden.”

 Elyssa leaned back and closed her eyes, for the first time allowing a trickle of relief and hope to fill the hole she didn't realize had taken up residence in her chest.  She turned towards Alistair, painfully dragging herself across the rubble.

 “I think he is stable, Elyssa.  I do not truly know what ails him, but I do not think he will die this day.  Relax, child, and sleep.”

 Elyssa closed her eyes, and dropping her head onto Alistair's armoured shoulder, she did just that.

 **********************************

 When she woke again, she was in a bed.  She could hear quiet murmurs of people whispering, and could feel she had been stripped of her armour and put into a soft night gown.  She allowed one selfish moment to luxuriate in the relief she felt at awakening at all, then opened her eyes and struggled to sit up.  She had vague memories of being carried again, and then shouting, and then being stripped and washed before ending up in bed.

 She found herself in an enormous bed, in a large but cozy room, and realized she was not alone.  Wynne was standing with a small group of people, talking in hushed voices, in a corner by the door.  She turned her head and realized Alistair was laying in the bed also, his handsome face lax and somehow slightly...gray.  She cried out, and jumped up to lean over him – the sudden movement made her head spin, and she almost fainted.  Her noise attracted the attention of the group at the foot of the bed, and Wynne hurried over after shooing out her companions.

 “Stay calm, child.  He is alive.”

 “Wynne!  Why is his colour so...what is wrong with him?”

 “I don't completely know, Elyssa, to be honest.  I was hoping you might be able to shed some light on that.”

 “Me?  I'm no healer.”

 “No, but you are the only one who can confirm what I suspect happened.  Without knowing the details, I remain uncertain.”

 “What do you mean?”

 “I gather that, somehow, Morrigan did something to draw the spirit of the archdemon out and into herself when it died.  Yes?”  Elyssa nodded.  “Very self-sacrificing of her.  I am surprised, and a little impressed.” 

 “No, not self-sacrificing.  I have no doubt she is alive, somewhere.  She knew what she was doing, warned me she'd be gone after the archdemon was dead.  She did this for her own reasons, not to be a hero.”

 “Still.  I'm guessing that being the one to slay an archdemon is supposed to have...dire consequences on the one who does the killing, am I right?  This is one of the secrets the Grey Wardens protect?  That to kill an archdemon, a Grey Warden must die?  Oh, don't worry child, I won't tell anyone.  I have long wondered why we always believed a Grey Warden must be the one to kill the archdemon, and it was the only thing that made sense.  So regardless of her intentions...what Morrigan did saved your life, did it not?  You were the one to slay the beast.” 

 “I...that is true, isn't it?  Somewhat galling, somehow, to admit it, but there it is.”

 “Can you tell me anything of what she did?  How did she...draw out the archdemon like that?”

 “I don't know the details, Wynne.  I know it was blood magic, and that if anyone finds out they will not be impressed.  But the unofficial motto of the Grey Wardens has always been “Whatever it takes to defeat the blight' and so I allowed it.

 “Do you know where an archdemon comes from, Wynne?”

 “I have heard many stories, every one more fantastic than the last.  No one knows for sure.”

 “The Grey Wardens do.  An archdemon is an Old God.  One of those worshiped by the ancient Tevinters, and forgotten in the mists of time.  But forgotten does not mean gone; these beings, whatever they are, merely slumber at present.  They are neither evil nor good, living nor dead.  They merely...are.

 “Somehow, it would seem, the same taint that created the darkspawn, the abominations...somehow, with enough time, the taint can...contaminate one of the Old Gods.  And once contaminated, it grows hungry.  Eventually, it learns to control the darkspawn, give them commands and make them dance to its will, and that is when a blight begins.

 “Grey Wardens willingly submit themselves to the very same taint, despite knowing the eventual outcome of such an undertaking.  This allows them to do two things – the one everyone knows about is that they can sense darkspawn.  The one we don't talk about, the one that must remain secret...If anyone other than a Grey Warden slays an archdemon, the spirit will leave its body and immediately flow into the nearest darkspawn, instantly rebirthing itself.  A normal person cannot truly kill an archdemon.  If, however, the final blow is made by a Grey Warden, the spirit instead flows into that Warden.  The end result is mutual annihilation – a dead Old God, a dead Warden.  This is the secret we protect, the reason only we may end a blight.

 “Whatever Morrigan did...she found a way to remove the taint from the Old God.  In being rebirthed such, instead of mutual annihilation, an untainted Old God will be borne into the world in mortal form, when Morrigan delivers.  I think the...spirit...that Zevran described to me must have been the, I don't know, the soul?  Of an Old God.  Flowing into the unborn baby growing in Morrigan's womb.”

 “I...understand why the Wardens kept this secret!  I vow to you, Elyssa, that I will not reveal what you have told me to anyone.  You took an immense risk in allowing this ritual of Morrigan's!  Not that I don't understand why you would, of course...”

 “It wasn't for me.”  Elyssa's tone was quiet.  “It truly was the only way I could think of to save Ferelden.  There were only two of us left.  It fell to one of us to accept the duty to slay the archdemon, and by tradition, the more senior Warden had to do it.  Alistair may allow me to lead, but he is my senior.  But Alistair is King.  I would have done it, I would sacrifice much more than myself to end a blight.  But even if he had allowed that, if I had perished, I know him.  Alistair would have immediately launched himself on a one-man, suicide mission to rid the world of darkspawn.  He too would have died.  And with his passing, a second civil war would be inevitable.  Thousands would perish, to war or starvation or plague, and we would have sacrificed ourselves to end the blight, only for our people to be doomed regardless.  I couldn't allow that, Wynne.  My day of reckoning will come, for what I allowed Morrigan to do – Maker only know what she will do with an Old God! - and I will have to take responsibility for it then.  But this at least bought me time to plan, to rebuild, to protect Ferelden until that happens.  It was the only way.”

 “I am...proud of you, child.  Actually, you are a child no longer, and I must learn to stop treating you as such.  I am proud to have known you, to watch you grow into a woman I can admire and respect.  Thank you for allowing me to witness this incredible journey.  My Queen.”  With that she knelt down, taking Elyssa's hand and kissing her ring as visiting dignitaries do for royalty.  Elyssa hurried to haul her up from the floor and give her a quick embrace.

 “Stop that!  I am not certain I will allow all this bowing and scraping from the idiots at court, never mind from my friends.  But, Wynne, none of this explains what is happening to Alistair.  Or what came over me, after I killed the archdemon, for that matter.   Please.  Tell me what you know.”

 “I certainly did not know the details, but I guessed at parts of what you told me.  That spirit – the one that must have been the Old God? - when it emerged, as Zevran said, it felt...grateful.  Like it had been in pain, and had been healed.  It...looked at you two, if an amorphous mass can be said to have eyes.

 “Tell me, Elyssa.  Do you feel anything different, since waking?”

 “Different how?”

 “Well, your abilities, for one.  Anything changed?”

 “I won't know until I draw a bow, and that's going to be a while judging by how sore my shoulder is.”

 “Not those abilities.  What of your ability to sense darkspawn?”

 Until she mentioned it, Elyssa had not noticed it, but something indeed had changed.  Ever since the joining, Elyssa could sense darkspawn.  When they were near, it became heightened, and gave her a combat advantage against the creatures.  But even when they were distant, she could sense them, like a vibration passing through the rock under her feet, a shadow hovering in her peripheral vision.  Now, suddenly, the sense of them had changed.  There were none nearby, but those she could feel at a distance were...different, somehow.  They were no longer calling her to them.  Wynne nodded as she saw realization dawn on Elyssa's face.

 “As I thought.  And I noticed – neither of you has been having nightmares anymore, either.  When I saw the cloud emerge from both you and Alistair, I thought I could sense the healing weaves responsible.  It felt like a cleansing ritual we use to attempt to cure someone of poison or infection.

 “I believe that the spirit, the Old God, in his gratitude for freeing him from the dragon...he cleansed you both of the taint.  Or, at least, the dangerous parts.  Over the last few months I have become good at sensing the taint in the creatures we encountered, could even get some idea of how close to insanity they were (or how far over the line they'd gone).  When I delve you or Alistair now...the taint is gone.  Neither of you seem to be at risk of eventual taint-sickness, like the other Grey Wardens.  There is something about the two of you that differs from the common person...but it is not the taint.”

 Elyssa's eyes widened as she listened, and hope bloomed on her face.  But seeing Alistair's gray, slack face, it disappeared just as quickly.  Wynne saw where she was looking, and hurried to reassure her.

 “He was affected by the taint for longer than you, Elyssa.  It had grown roots in his body in a way it had not in yours.  He is getting better, with time – it almost looks like the reverse of the taint-sickness we see in those bitten by darkspawn.  By my calculations, he should be awake within the next few hours, and back to normal within a couple of days.”

 Elyssa collapsed onto the bed beside Alistair, exhausted by the war between grief for her fallen friends, worry for Alistair and Morrigan, relief that the blight was over, and the crushing mound of duty she could feel pressing down on her, both for the Grey Wardens and for Ferelden.

 “Sleep, my Queen.  I have dealt with the people of the court – they have been told that Alistair was wounded, and that you are at his side to nurse him back to health.  With me as 'chaperone', you have no fear of reprisal for impropriety.  The court does not need to know that the King's chambers have a secret entrance, through which I intend to leave.  Though in a few months, if anyone is impertinent enough to do the math, I suspect the fact that impropriety had happened will become obvious.  Our other friends are taking turns as the King's Honor Guard, standing outside the door.  You have a few days – of rest, recovery, and privacy.  After that is up to you.” 

 “Wait, Wynne...what?  How will anyone know?”

 “You'll figure it out.  Congratulations, your Majesty.  I hear twins are actually quite rare in the royal bloodline!”  Wynne winked, and disappeared as the secret passage swung shut.

 Elyssa lay back, her mind reeling.  Finally, shrugging to herself, she chose to believe Wynne was just teasing her and put the thought aside for another day.  She pulled the blankets up, and before she knew it fell into a deep, natural sleep, free of nightmares, full of hope, and cuddled up to the side of her soon-to-be husband.

 

 


End file.
